


Perfect Date #IneffableValentines2020 prompt 6

by GayDemonicDisaster (scrapheapchallenge)



Series: Ineffable Valentines 2020 [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: #ineffableValentines2020, Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Oral Sex, Sex, Valentines, ineffable valentines, the Full Milton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22500280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapheapchallenge/pseuds/GayDemonicDisaster
Summary: Crowley plans a perfect date for Aziraphale, weeks of planning go into making it as memorable as he can, as he steels himself to tell his angel how he feels.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Valentines 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618783
Comments: 44
Kudos: 158
Collections: Ineffable Valentines 2020, Top Crowley Library





	Perfect Date #IneffableValentines2020 prompt 6

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miele_Petite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miele_Petite/gifts).



Crowley stepped out of the Bentley, having parked it in the taxi rank a few yards down from Fortnum and Mason in Piccadilly, going through the list in his head. He’d been planning things for a while, and this was the last one of many steps he had on his list. He strode through the doors of the world’s most famous delicatessen into the opulent surroundings and looked about, wondering where to start.

He caught the eye of a handsome young 20-something lad in uniform, hovering by a nearby counter. Crowley turned on his charm and sauntered over, immediately catching the lad’s eye. He grinned slowly, and was rewarded with a slightly flustered look. “Can I help you, sir?” the assistant enquired, clearly trying not to come across as nervous as he looked.

“Yup, need a personal shopper. I want a picnic hamper putting together for someone special who is somewhat of an epicure. Only the very best, and need I say, price is no object.” He handed over his American express Centurion card (formerly known as the Black Card, and available only to the very wealthy by invitation). “Put it all on this. Picnic is for two.”

The assistant nodded eagerly. “Certainly, sir, my pleasure, would you like me to take you round and talk you through the options, or just go ahead and put something together for you while you wait?” 

Crowley considered. “You’d better show me so I know what everything’s called when we unpack it.”

Almost an hour later, after much indecision, and a bill with rather too many digits on it (but Crowley didn’t care), he sauntered out followed by an assistant carrying a very large wicker picnic hamper, and placed it on the back seat of the Bentley. He dropped the employee a large tip and sped off, he smiled to himself.

The previous few days and weeks had been filled with various other stops around London, seeking out only the very finest of everything. 

One such stop was a stroll down Cecil Court, linking Charing Cross Road and St. Martin’s Lane, where he spent almost an entire day going through each shop thoroughly, using his extensive knowledge of Aziraphale’s collection to seek out items he knew the angel didn’t already own, and would want to. He was able to come away with at least three suitably rare and expensive tomes that he knew would bring a smile to Aziraphale’s face. 

Another was St. John’s Wood High Street for Rigby and Peller, lingerie tailors to the Queen. Here Crowley spent some time getting measured and fitted by a politely understanding and discreet seamstress, and selecting fabric swatches in red and black lace patterns for what he had in mind. 

Crowley had also gone to Moyses Stevens, the oldest flower shop in London, also by appointment to the Queen, and spent some time telling them exactly what he wanted. This time no personal shopper was required, as Crowley knew more than the owner did about precisely what was needed. He combined his knowledge of the language of flowers as well as what would be aesthetically pleasing, and ordered a custom bouquet to be prepared and ready on a certain day. 

Another stop he had already prepared several weeks in advance – a visit to Gieves & Hawkes on Savile Row to pick up a specially tailored new suit for himself. Still black with red accents of course, but in a rather sharper, more formal style than his usual casual attire. He’d already been back for a test fitting to fine tune the cut, and now it was ready for collection. 

After that had been Berry Brothers on St. James’s street, oldest wine merchant’s in London, where Crowley spent the rest of the afternoon tasting various vintages before settling on a few bottles with prices in four figures, and at least one in five figures. Step six – done, rather enjoyably. You were supposed to spit, not swallow when tasting wine, but Crowley didn’t care. He purged the alcohol from his system with mild regret before climbing into the Bentley for the trip home. There was still more to do the next morning.

The next day, Crowley headed to Jermyn Street for a visit to Floris. He remembered when it’d opened back in 1730. They were still the foremost perfumiers in London, and made exquisite aftershaves. He spent a while sampling scents until he settled on a dark musky custom combination for himself, and a vanilla-heavy bookish-smelling bottle for Aziraphale. 

Around the time he’d picked up the suit, it was back to St. James’s street to John Lobb’s for the new custom snakeskin shoes he’d ordered a couple of months ago. Naturally again in black, with crimson lining. Another Royal Warrant holder, founded in 1829. He also had something else to collect. He’d surreptitiously borrowed a spare pair of Aziraphale’s favourite old shoes and had a beautiful new pair made up in a pale tan, to the exact sizing of the old pair. They were wrapped in tissue paper and gleamed at him from the box. He smiled happily. 

Crowley glanced at his watch. One last thing to take care of. He made a phone call to the Royal Academy of Music, where he’d made a private booking at great expense, to have their most gifted students in a variety of instruments prepare to do a performance on the bandstand in a certain park for him at a certain time. He confirmed that everything was still on, and that he’d see them there. He grinned, then patted his pocket where another secret was tucked away.

So, only the last step to take care of. He pulled up outside the bookshop and sauntered in as if nothing was out of the ordinary, turning the sign on the door from “Open” to “Closed” as he did. “Aziraphale?” he called out, wandering through to the office area, where the angel was busy binding an old book. “Surprise” he drawled as Aziraphale looked up at him. “I told you to keep today free, well, you’re coming with me, Angel.”

Aziraphale took in the sight of Crowley before him, in a sharp new suit, new shoes, and standing in a decadent haze of enticingly musky warm scent. “Oh.” Was all he could think to say. The demon’s entire appearance and aura was unexpectedly overwhelming. “Of course, I’m terribly sorry, Crowley, I had almost forgotten. I’ll just get my coat shall I?” Crowley smiled and nodded.

In the Bentley, cruising at an unusually sedate pace through London, Crowley eventually spoke. “You once told me, in this car, that you’d like one day to perhaps go on a picnic, or dine at the Ritz. Well we already dined at the Ritz the evening we survived heaven and hell’s attempts on our lives. I think it’s about time we did the picnic.” He parked up and stepped out of the car, indicating the expanse of Hyde Park beyond the iron railings. “Come on, Angel.”

Aziraphale’s heart fluttered nervously. He noticed Crowley lifting a large wicker hamper from the back seat of the car. “Would you mind grabbing that other bag though, please Aziraphale?” Crowley asked. He hadn’t considered the logistics of actually getting the stuff across the park. He didn’t have enough hands and didn’t want to make two trips. Aziraphale nodded and picked up the other bag without question, keen to see what Crowley had planned.

As they drew closer to the bandstand, the brass band arranged there struck up a rendition of “Good old fashioned lover boy” by Queen. A song that Aziraphale had heard enough in the Bentley to know the words for, and he blushed furiously. There was a large tartan picnic blanket laid out already. Crowley laid the large hamper down at the edge of it, knelt down, and patted the blanket next to him, to invite Aziraphale to join him.

He opened the hamper and began unpacking the food, then opened the large bag that Aziraphale had brought over, pulling out a bottle of wine. It took a moment of consternation before he realised that he’d forgotten plates and wine glasses. Crowley cursed inwardly and put his hand over his eyes with a groan. Everything else was so perfect and he’d forgotten some of the most basic bits of a picnic. He looked up and thought for a moment. He looked down at the now emptied hamper, closed the lid for a second, snapped his fingers then opened it again. It now contained a selection of crockery, cutlery and glasses, which he lifted out and arranged on the blanket with the food.

He looked up to see Aziraphale giggling, and couldn’t help but smile back at him. The band had now switched to “love me do” by the Beatles. Crowley popped the cork on the wine and poured each of them a glass. He chinked rims with Aziraphale and they sat back to bask in the sunshine for a moment. Aziraphale was beaming happily, and Crowley was already starting to feel more relaxed. He sat up and unwrapped some choice morsels, arranging them on a plate before passing it to his angel, whose eyes lit up at the delicacies laid before him.

Aziraphale nibbled at the finest foie gras, caviar on blinis, Sorrento ham and other delectable treats, as Crowley laid back and watched him enjoy it all, sipping some of the wine and enjoying the sunshine like a basking snake. Not only basking in the warm sun, but in the contented glow of the angel’s happiness.

After a while, Crowley reached into the bag and brought out a couple of gift wrapped boxes. “I got you a couple of things I thought you might like” he declared, and sat back, hands clasped in front of his raised knees, to watch as the angel placed his plate down deliberately to unwrap the first gift eagerly.

Behind them, the band struck up a cover of “Earth Angel” by the Penguins.

Aziraphale first unwrapped the smallest box, which contained an expensive looking cut crystal bottle of aftershave. He opened it and dabbed a little on his wrist, allowed it to dry then sniffed. It was perfection, it wrapped him up in a vision of old books, Bergamot and Earl Grey tea, sandalwood and a hint of frankincense. “Oh Crowley this is lovely, thank you.” Crowley grinned and nudged the next parcel with his toe, pushing it closer to Aziraphale.

The next box was rather larger. Once unwrapped it revealed a pair of pale tan brogues in a style he loved. He looked down at his own shoes, which had seen better days, and smiled. The new ones were a perfect match. “How on earth did you manage that, Crowley?”

Crowley winked. “Made by the grandson of the gent who made the ones on your feet right now, Angel.” Aziraphale smiled even wider and removed his shoes to swap into the new pair, wriggling his toes happily. Crowley nudged the 3 rd gift toward him. The band transitioned into a cover of “I got my mind set on you.”

Aziraphale unwrapped the third gift, revealing a stack of three books tied together with ribbon, each one an ancient first edition, each one worth anything from several hundred pounds, to a couple of thousand. His jaw dropped. “Oh Crowley, how did you know?”

“I’ve been hanging out at your bookshop on and off for well over a century, Angel, I think I know where your tastes lie, and I know your collection almost as well as I know you. I  _ do _ pay attention, you know.”

Aziraphale lifted his gaze from the books to meet Crowley’s. “You… you do?” he was silent for a moment. “You know what scents I like, what shoe size I am, what books I’ve been searching for for years, what food and wine is my favourite. You really do, don’t you?” He paused again. “What is all this in aid of, Crowley?” he asked quietly.

Crowley shuffled closer and lifted the books carefully out of Aziraphale’s unresisting hands, setting them safely aside on top of the hamper for the moment. He sat cross legged, facing Aziraphale, reached out, and nervously took both of the angel’s hands in his own. The conductor glanced down and frantically nodded to the band, who hastily segued into “I want to hold your hand” by the Beatles. Crowley gave a short, involuntary laugh and flung an appreciative grin toward the bandstand in thanks.

“Aziraphale, for thousands of years I’ve wanted nothing more than to spend time with you, and I’ve used any excuse I can think of to do so. All the time I’ve tried to do that whilst keeping enough of a distance to keep you safe from repercussions from heaven, waiting for the day when somehow I could show you how I feel without worrying about what might happen to you, or to either of us. If that never happened, then I’d have been content to carry on as we were, trying to tell you I love you in a million different ways without having to say the words and damn the pair of us…”

Here Aziraphale caught his breath and tears pricked at his eyes. “Crowley…” he murmured, squeezing his hands slightly.

“But now we’re free, free to do whatever we want. We’re on our own side, no one cares about what we do any more. I’ve wanted to do this for you, well, forever. You deserve it.”

Aziraphale was lost for words. He blinked his tears away and sniffed slightly, then flung himself forward into Crowley’s arms, almost unbalancing him. Crowley laughed and held him up, “Steady on, Angel” he chuckled fondly. Aziraphale looked up and stroked Crowley’s face tenderly.

“May I kiss you, dear?”

Crowley huffed, and answered by pressing his lips to the angel’s, soft and slow and sweet. The band shifted to “the nearness of you” by Ella Fitzgerald. Crowley made a mental note to double the tip for the conductor, and the entire group.

It was everything he’d wanted it to be. His angel, melting in his arms, as they sat on the grass in the sunshine, not a care in the world. Crowley’s lips slick on his, tongue probing and little moans of pleasure coming up from Aziraphale, arms grasping at Crowley’s body tightly.

Reluctantly, Crowley finally broke the kiss off before he got carried away and got arrested for public indecency. “Crowley, this is wonderful, my darling” Aziraphale murmured in his ear as he held him close.

“Day’s not over yet, Angel. Still got more to come yet. First, have some cake…” He reached down to unwrap another little box and served up a delectable slice to Aziraphale with a smile. This done, he removed a pair of tickets from his jacket pocket. “La Traviata, tonight at the opera house. But we’ve got all afternoon before that. Got any requests for our own personal orchestra?”

Aziraphale looked over at the bandstand in surprise. “You mean they aren’t just a coincidence? I thought they were here anyway!”

Crowley laughed and shook his head. “Just for us today, Aziraphale. Top students from the Royal Academy of Music. You’d be amazed how many students you can get when you wave a bit of cash about, I had to audition them and turn away about 30 who were desperate to play because so many of them wanted to earn a bit of extra money. Only the best for you, Angel.”

Crowley then snapped his fingers and summoned the bouquet of flowers which had been hidden in the boot of the Bentley, handing them over to Aziraphale. 

There were red, pink and white camellias, red carnations, jonquils, lily of the valley, primroses, red tulips, variegated tulips and white violets

Aziraphale gasped and sniffed the blooms appreciatively. “They’re perfect.” He considered them carefully then gave Crowley a knowing look. “You sneaky serpent.” He clearly understood the message concealed in the bouquet.* 

After Aziraphale had finished sampling the cakes and pastries, he reclined with his head in Crowley’s lap as the demon hand fed him strawberries dipped in chocolate then cream, whilst the band moved onto some of Aziraphale’s favourites, with a bit of Dvorak and Debussy followed by Strauss. A couple of ducks wandered over so Crowley threw them a few left overs to nibble on. He noticed Aziraphale grinning up at him. “And don’t you say a word, I’m not being nice.” Crowley winked down at him.

“You are” murmured Aziraphale, earning himself a gentle poke in the ribs and a giggle. Crowley cleared the remains of the picnic away and laid back next to Aziraphale with a satisfied little sigh. They held hands and watched the clouds scudding across the sky, as Crowley’s thumb traced little circles on the back of Aziraphale’s hand. Every now and then he’d turn his head and they’d share another kiss in blissful silence.

After a while the band drew to a close and Crowley glanced at his watch. He tipped his head back to look at them packing their instruments away and gave them a thumbs up and a smile, beckoning the conductor over, he pressed an enormous wad of cash into her hand. “But you’ve already paid us” the woman protested.

“Tip” Crowley explained and waved her away before she realised that the “tip” was in fact about triple what they’d already been paid anyway. She nodded thanks and rushed back to the rest of the group to split the money up before they left.

Their area of the park was now strangely empty. Few, if any, humans had walked near all afternoon, and now that the band had packed up for the day, it was strangely silent save for the birds. Crowley felt himself nodding off, his head against Aziraphale’s soft shoulder.

He woke to Aziraphale’s hand stroking his hair. He murmured happily and nuzzled closer to his angel, who pressed a tender kiss to the top of his head. There was something about lying out in the sunshine that brought out the snake in him and made him just want to coil up and bask in it, content. He dozed for a little longer, hearing Aziraphale flipping pages every now and then as he enjoyed one of his books, then finally checked his watch. Still plenty of time. He nudged the angel with his nose. “Fancy a stroll?”

Aziraphale set his book aside and kissed Crowley’s forehead. “That sounds delightful dear.” They packed everything up into the hamper and carried it back to the Bentley, then ambled around the Knightsbridge shops for a while hand in hand, as if they’d always been like this. It was amazing how thousands of years just fell away into the naturalness of closeness as if it were nothing at all. Crowley lifted their joined hands to kiss Aziraphale’s knuckles tenderly. “About time we wandered up to the opera house I think.”

Once at the theatre, Aziraphale took his turn to rest his head on Crowley’s shoulder for most of the performance, their hands still intertwined, resting on Aziraphale’s knee, every now and then squeezing their hands, and exchanging loving looks. Crowley couldn’t remember when he’d ever felt such peace.

He didn’t want to reveal the last of his little surprises to Aziraphale yet, as he didn’t want to distract him too much in such a public place, but he definitely wanted to see if it would nudge proceedings in a more interesting direction on the way home. So it was in the Bentley on the drive back to Soho that Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and laid it on his thigh, encouraging the angel to have a good feel.

Aziraphale’s eyes opened wide and his head shot sideways, mouth open to stare at Crowley, who was grinning wickedly.

“Suspenders?” Aziraphale exclaimed, mock-scandalised but clearly delighted. Crowley licked his lips at him.

“There’s more, if you’d like to unwrap me when we get home, Angel.” He winked and Aziraphale bit his lips, wriggling in his seat slightly.

“You  _ minx _ ” Aziraphale hissed at him, making Crowley laugh. He kept grinning the rest of the way home watching Aziraphale shifting uneasily in his seat, and occasionally running his hand up and down Crowley’s thigh, feeling at the lingerie underneath and licking his lips distractedly.

When they pulled up outside the bookshop, Aziraphale just hung back, watching Crowley step out of the car, watching his backside more intently than usual, focussing his mind on considering what was hiding underneath now. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he could see the faint line in his tight trousers hinting at the suspender belt underneath, and wondered what other delights were hiding under there. 

Crowley turned back to look at him, one eyebrow raised quizzically. “You ok? Having second thoughts, Angel?” He looked slightly concerned, and stepped back toward the car, toward Aziraphale, placing gentle hands on his shoulders. “If I’m going too fast for you….” He trailed off, biting his lip. 

Aziraphale shook his head hurriedly. “No! No… not at all, dear boy. I was just… “ his eyes flicked aside and down coyly and he blushed. “I was just admiring your derriére, dearest.” he admitted shyly. Crowley gaped at him.

“My… My ‘derriére,’ Angel?” He huffed a short laugh and pressed a fond kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead. “You. Are. Adorable.” Crowley leaned back and smiled fondly at him, as Aziraphale lifted his eyes to meet Crowley’s gaze with a shy smile of his own. “Come on, let’s get in so you can unwrap this ‘derriére’ of mine and get your teeth stuck into it, eh?” He winked libidinously and stepped back to allow the angel to lead them into the bookshop. 

Once inside, blinds drawn, Aziraphale stepped close to Crowley, hands fluttering nervously, then reached out to take him by the waist. Crowley removed his shades, tucking them in his jacket pocket and gazing down into the angel’s clear blue-grey eyes. “I meant it, Angel. If you’re unsure about anything, just tell me. We won’t do anything you don’t want to. Tell me if you want to slow down, or stop. If you just want to cuddle, or just sit and have a cup of tea instead.”

Aziraphale’s lips set in a firm, determined line. He stared hard at Crowley, and appeared to make a decision. He lunged forward and pressed his lips hard against the demon’s, urgent and fierce, shoving him back against the wall, and grinding his hips up against the lean body, his kiss crushingly desperate, causing Crowley’s eyes to open wide in shock at the sudden unexpected display of possessiveness from his angel. 

Aziraphale broke off, breathing hard. “Does that answer your doubts?” Crowley swallowed and nodded, mutely. Aziraphale nodded. “Good.” And grabbed at Crowley’s hair, pressing forward into another devastatingly passionate kiss, licking into that hot mouth, nipping at his lip, hard and wet and messy and urgent. Crowley’s hands came up to stroke the angel’s soft curls and grab at his back, hips meeting his in shared need. 

Aziraphale’s hands were wandering now, running up and down Crowley’s lean, hard body, skimming over his clothes, feeling for the now expected texture of lace underneath. He brought two hands up to shove the demon’s black jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor, then carried on skimming over his narrow chest, feeling something under there, before he was ripping buttons off the expensive shirt, to a mildly affronted whimper from Crowley, muffled by their lips pressed together. This revealed a red and black lace basque with a snake pattern woven through it. Aziraphale let go and took a step back to admire it. He raised an eyebrow at Crowley, who shrugged, then lifted his arms and twirled, before facing forward again, arms spread wide. “Want more, Angel?”

Aziraphale nodded. Crowley smirked, and dropped his hands to his snakeskin belt. He undid it with teasing slowness, unhooking the clasp deliberately, then, achingly slowly, he slid it out of his belt loops, then lifted it out to the side, dangling from his elegant fingers, eyes fixed on Aziraphale, and let it drop to the floor. His hands returned to his fly, undoing the top button as he bit his lip seductively, then at a snail's pace, drawing the zip down. 

He paused, still making direct eye contact with his angel, grabbed his trousers by the sides, and shoved them down, revealing matching black lace panties shot through with red serpentine design. The suspender belt sat just above on his sharp jutting hip bones, the straps taut across the hollows of his frame down his lean muscular thighs, where they met the top of his stockings - sheer black silk, with a winding serpent design meandering down the back of the calf in lieu of a seam. He kicked off his boots. 

Aziraphale remembered to draw breath. 

Crowley slowly and deliberately pulled one foot free, using the other foot to pin the crumpled trousers down so he could tug them off each foot, then kicked them aside. The serpent seam at the back of each stocking ended in a snake head appearing to bite at his heel. Crowley jutted a hip forward and lounged against the wall with a grin, one hand on his hip, eyebrow raised, and licked his lip. “Your move, Angel.” he drawled, easily. 

Aziraphale set his jaw, and met Crowley’s gaze steadily, meeting the challenge there with his own firmly raised eyebrow. His look deliciously dark. He shrugged off his jacket and flung it aside, never taking his eyes from the demon. He reached up to remove his bow tie and tossed it to the floor in an uncharacteristic carelessness, then undid the top two buttons of his shirt, no more. His hand fell next to his cufflink, undoing it, palming it, and swapping to remove the other. He took both and set them aside on a table next to him with a deliberate clink of gold on wood. Crowley gulped. 

Next the left sleeve was rolled up to his elbow, then the right. He tipped his head to one side questioningly, which was met with a pair of raised eyebrows from the demon. Somehow that limit of undress was more than sufficient for now, and  _ somehow _ , god knows how, hot as fucking hell to Crowley. He took two steps forward and grabbed his angel’s face in both hands to kiss him deeply, their bodies hard against each other. 

Aziraphale’s hands skimmed over rough lace and his cock stiffened in his trousers. Crowley’s hands were now running down the angel’s bare forearms, and he growled into the kiss before grabbing Aziraphale close and tight. Crowley moved to bite at the angel’s slightly bared neck possessively, laying down a greedy love bite to the tender skin there as Aziraphale moaned under his lips, frotting his clothed crotch up against the hardness in Crowley’s lace knickers. 

The angel hoisted Crowley up against the wall, moaning as the demon’s legs wound around his waist, now biting back at Crowley’s neck with equal ferocity and leaving marks, thrusting against him and breathing hard. Crowley groaned and tipped his head back, leaving acres of his gorgeous neck exposed for the angel’s attentions. He gasped out as he was festooned with sharp little nips from angelic teeth. “Have you done this before, Aziraphale?” Aziraphale shook his head into Crowley’s neck but didn’t stop.

“Well.. AH!.. I think, Uh… Oh  _ Angel…  _ Uh.. we’d better take it upstairs to OH! … Do it UH! … Properly…” 

Aziraphale nodded, giving one last bite, and finally releasing his hard grip on Crowley’s thighs, lowering him to the floor again. They paused a moment, foreheads touching, sharing breaths, gazing into each other’s eyes and trying to find some coherence between them. Aziraphale finally nodded. “Yes, bedroom… right…” he stepped backwards, reluctantly, and led the way to the stairs to the small flat above the shop. 

Crowley stood in the doorway to the bedroom and took it in briefly. An obviously rarely used and very old bed, a dresser, bedside table with antique Lalique lamp, a couple of large wardrobes, marble topped washstand complete with an old basin and ewer, chest of drawers, old steamer trunk at the foot of the bed, and faded persian rug. 

And all over the place, of course, more books. He smiled at this little microcosm of Aziraphale’s personality. And Aziraphale, standing by the bed, slightly nervous again now despite his ferocity downstairs, his confidence clearly coming in waves. Crowley stepped toward his angel and wrapped him in his arms. “I still mean it, Angel. Don’t feel pressured, my love.” 

Aziraphale kissed him again. “Never. I need you, Crowley. Show me.” With that he allowed Crowley to unbutton his waistcoat and shirt, setting them aside, then laying a trail of tender kisses across the angel’s chest. He gently pressed him down to sit on the edge of the bed and knelt to remove his shoes and socks, and knelt between his legs, running gentle hands up muscular thighs as if worshipping at his angel’s feet. He drew a low breath and leaned forward to kiss Aziraphale’s chest again, then lifted his head to meet his gaze questioningly. Aziraphale nodded.

Crowley slowly set to the task of undoing and removing Aziraphale’s trousers and underwear. This done, he stood again, unsure for a moment, until Aziraphale pulled him closer by yanking at his hips, then, more gently, taking Crowley’s lace knickers and sliding them down off his long shapely thighs. Crowley had at least worn them over his suspender belt for ease of removal. His cock was barely constrained by them at all, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but gasp slightly when finally faced with the literal enormity of it, wondering how on earth he was to cope with the sheer length in any part of him, and yet keen to find out. 

Crowley rested his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders to steady himself, and watched as his angel bent forward to address a kiss to his aching cock reverently. “How would you like this, Angel?” Crowley murmured softly. Aziraphale looked up and hesitated. 

“I don’t know. I mean I’ve imagined so many ways, my dear, but now you’re here, I.. I just don’t know. You’ve.. Done this before… haven’t you?”

Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale could read a certain amount of regret in his expression. “Yes. I only wish that every time it could have been with you.”

“Then show me.”

Crowley nodded, he unclipped the stockings and allowed Aziraphale to pull each one slowly off his long legs. Next he removed the suspender belt, and unclipped the basque, letting it fall. Aziraphale gazed up at him in silent wonder.

Crowley stepped closer and gently pushed Aziraphale back on the bed. He kissed him and then slithered his way down his body to lie between those delicious thick thighs, layering kisses all over that angelic effort, and then following up with long slurps and snaking licks around the shaft before enveloping him entirely in his warm, wet mouth, and truly going to work with an expertise borne of long experience. Aziraphale grabbed at Crowley’s hair and moaned in delight. It amused Crowley to discover that the sounds he was wresting from his lover at this point were almost identical to the sounds that he made while eating. No wonder Crowley had always found it so damn enthralling to watch, and listen to Aziraphale eating. Well now it was his turn, and his angel was delicious. 

Aziraphale lost himself in a whirlwind of heretofore unexperienced sensations cascading through his body. His hands fisted in Crowley’s red hair and he keened through his teeth, eyes tightly closed and jaw clenched. Crowley slowed his licks and lifted off, replacing his mouth with a hand, slick with saliva, then grabbed for a pillow. He paused long enough to encourage Aziraphale to lift his hips up on the pillow, and then resumed his manual attentions, a slow, steady stroke to keep the angel on edge for a while - just enough attention to keep him hard and aching for more. 

Meanwhile, Crowley laved his tongue over the angel’s testicles, licking in firm circles, sucking them gently, making Aziraphale whimper in pleasure, and then licking down his perineum until his tongue was circling the tight ring of muscle below. The angel writhed with pleasure. Crowley’s skilled hand stroking Aziraphale’s cock at the same time as that fiendishly clever tongue probed into his rear left him insensible with pleasure. 

Crowley kept his movements slow but deliberate to draw things out as long as possible, he didn’t want Aziraphale to orgasm just yet if he could help it. The longer he could delay it, the bigger the resulting explosion was likely to be. His tongue probed deeper, deeper than should be possible with a regular human corporation, but not for Crowley’s unique set of talents. 

He withdrew and replaced the tongue attention with a suddenly lubed up finger, stroking deep , making Aziraphale shudder with delight and groan with every thrust. Crowley returned to licking and sucking on his bollocks, while his other hand continued its torturously slow stroking of his cock. With three points of pleasure at once, Aziraphale was incoherent, lost in a world of his own, floating on a cloud of exquisite sensations. 

Crowley swapped his mouth back onto Aziraphale’s cock and continued a slow gentle licking, his now free hand massasing his balls gently, and added a second finger to his arsehole. He tiwsted and curled them, working the angel open gently, and brushing lightly over his prostate for the first time, making him arch off the bed with a howl of pleasure. No collection of constonants and vowels could sufficiently express the noises the angel was emitting by this point. Not all of his expressions were even audible to human hearing, or even audible on this ethereal plane at all. 

And that's when Crowley realised that the angel’s bliss was far more complex than he’d expected. He wondered if anyone had given an angel sexual pleasure before, if he was the first one to learn this, because it was amazing. 

It started with feeling the contact through his mouth. An ethereal tingle of holy divinity, lighting him up like a candle, he opened his eyes and saw the angel’s aura glowing bright gold. The sensation in his mouth was too amazing to put into words, like the most amazing high he’d ever experienced, but even more, not limited to his corporeal form, it was blazing into his very soul, he could feel his wings, wherever they were, flashing with waves of it coursing through them. 

He had to know what this felt like when he ramped it up a notch. He added a third finger and continued his inoxerable teasing and stretching, not making contact with Aziraphale’s prostate too often for fear of tipping him over the edge too soon. He finally withdrew his fingers and knelt up, lips also parting company with the angel’s cock. He saw and felt the angel’s aura dim by a merest fraction in disappointment, but positioned himself between his legs, hands on his thighs, then pressed his now-slicked up cock against his readied entrance. 

Aziraphale briefly descended back to the same plane of reality, and gazed adoringly up at his demon. “Please” he whispered, hoarsely. Crowley first bent forward to kiss him deeply, and while doing so, gently pushed in. Just a little, as slow and careful as he could, swallowing the angel’s moans with his kiss. He continued to press forward a little at a time, mindful of his size and fearing hurting his lover. He would never hurt his angel, and this needed to be the best experience he could make it for him. 

Aziraphale reached out to claw at Crowley’s back, raking his nails across his skin in desperation, seeking a fullness that he yearned to experience, demanding more, still more, whining and moaning as Crowley’s tongue explored his mouth and his cock sunk deeper, until finally, finally, his hips were flush with Aziraphale’s, bottomed out, and Crowley’s head swam with the headiness of the tight sensation he was buried in. 

Crowley began to slowly roll his hips and work his cock in gentle but firm pushes, each one rubbed against the angel’s prostate, as he held their bodies close together, breathing hot into Aziraphale’s neck, murmuring his love into his skin, placing soft kisses there, and occasional gentle nips. Aziraphale whimpered, wrapped his legs around Crowley’s slim hips and locked his ankles behind his back, his arms still clawing desperately at his shoulder blades, down his flanks, and digging into his arse, demanding more. As Crowley increased his pace, the angel’s nails began to inadvertnenly draw blood, but Crowley neither felt it nor cared. 

The surging celestial divinity was amping up again, and Crowley was sunk balls deep into the centre of it, feeling it pulse upward into his body, his demonic essence at first wanting to fight it, but quelled by his iron self control, it caved in and was subsumed by the holy light washing through every cell of his body on this plane and the next, wrapping him in golden light and filling every fibre of his being. He struggled to keep himself together as it was. He suspected that when the angel came he might be consumed by it utterly, but he didn’t care, it would be worth it for that one perfect moment of bliss, and he chased after it heedless of his own safety. 

Crowley regretfully raised his upper body upwards a little so he could take Aziraphale’s cock in hand again to stroke him in time with his own thrusts, aiming to bring them both off together. Much as he wanted to hold his angel close and kiss him, he also wanted to give him every possible sensation. He could feel Aziraphale quivering under him, barely holding together. The feeling was mutual. 

The added factor of the celestial divnity rising with each moment and overwhelming him took control of Crowley’s higher functions, leaving his corporation running on instinct while his mind ascended into a blinding glow of pure bliss, climbing higher and higher until he felt Aziraphale achieving orgasm underneath him, and then the world went white. 

Crowley was floating, a tiny speck in an infinite universe, surrounded only by the sheer overwhelming love of a divine being all around him, rings spinning around him, wings everywhere and eyes,  _ so many eyes _ , surrounding him, stripping away everything he was and searing across his soul, like a candle before a flamethrower, every layer of him stripped away and laid bare in pure honesty, nowhere to hide, naked, exposed, and  _ loved _ . Surrounded and filled and subsumed entirely by overwhelming  _ love  _ from every direction. He was drowning in it but he didn’t care, he  _ wanted  _ to. He never wanted this to stop, his body, wherever it was right now, was crying.

And then he was whirling and being dragged back, he didn’t want to leave this, not now, not ever, but something was pulling him back, calling his name and hands were on his thighs, then on his back, lips were on his neck, arms were holding him tight. Hot and sweaty and smelling of musk and old books and…

… He was collapsed on top of Aziraphale, who was holding him tight, stroking his hot skin, saying his name and kissing him. “...Crowley? Crowley, dearest, are you alright? Please, talk to me darling, are you ok?”

Crowley opened his eyes, his vision blurred. He lifted his head a little and found himself gazing down into Aziraphale’s worried blue eyes. “Oh Crowley, you’re back. You… went… strange? Somewhere? I don’t know, I think I was there too, but you.. You were spinning out of control when you came, you weren’t even in your body any more.”

Crowley was very much still inside Aziraphale’s though. He mustered his thoughts and wriggled out, heart still hammering rapidly in his ribcage. He lay down next to the angel and wrapped his arms around him, resting his head on Aziraphale’s chest. “What  _ was  _ that, Angel?” he gasped.

Aziraphale looked down at him. “I was rather hoping you’d know. Doesn’t that usually happen?” 

Crowley shook his head firmly. “Not with humans it doesn’t. Not with demons either.  _ You  _ were there, the  _ real  _ you. All around me. I think when you came, your angelic divinity must have flooded me and ripped me out of my body and somehow into yours - well not your body, that’s different, we’ve done that before, but into your angelic form. You were all around me,  _ looking  _ at me, at all of me. That was nothing like switching corporeal bodies. I think our true forms merged, at least until you called me back out again and grounded me.”

Aziraphale held his love in stunned silence for a few moments. He’d never felt anything like that in his entire existence, neither of them had. He wondered if  _ anyone  _ had, ever. He pressed a kiss into Crowley’s hair. “You know, of every way today that you’ve shown me you love me, that last part was the most incredible. To see your soul laid bare within me, see every aspect of you, and to see nothing there but love, Crowley. That doesn’t need any words, it doesn’t need any chocolates or flowers, cologne, shoes, books, wine, theatre, or any of those things. Not that it wasn’t all wonderful, my love, but all I ever truly needed was your love. And you’ve given it to me, straight to the centre of my soul.”

Crowley tipped his head back to gaze up at Aziraphale from where he lay with his head on his chest. “And I intend to give it to you, every single day, forever, Angel. I’m yours, completely.” He lifted himself up on his arms, shook out his wings and mantled them over the pair of them on the bed, stroked Aziraphale’s cheek tenderly, then kissed him, shielded from the world by his soft dark feathers, festooned with stars. 

[www.thelanguageofflowers.com ](http://www.thelanguageofflowers.com) if you’d like to see what Crowley was saying with the flowers. 


End file.
